


Dinner With The Satos

by bazaar



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Family Fluff, Future Fic, Multi, and real happy, they're real old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazaar/pseuds/bazaar
Summary: Those monthly family dinners were what kept Korra young. Not—that shewasyoung, of course.





	Dinner With The Satos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [golari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/golari/gifts).



> Hey y'all. I had a sudden, violent inspiration to write this, so I did. Since Korra and Asami are in their 80s here, this kind of takes place in the Avatar-verse equivalent of the early 90s, just FYI. This also takes place in the same universe as my other story, The 50th Floor, but around 50 years later. You don't have to read that, though.
> 
> Let me tell you, if you're looking for some fluffy, stupid shenanigans—you've come to the right place.

“Honey, if you keep taking it out of the oven, it’s not going to bake.”

Korra paused, a testing knife halfway into the cake. “The package said fifteen minutes. It’s been fifteen minutes.”

“It’s been eleven minutes,” Asami corrected, and Korra turned at her tone. Her wife stood on the other side of the kitchen, holding a stopwatch. _Dammit._ “I told you to use the oven timer.”

Korra couldn’t help but smirk to herself, pulling on her baking mitts and returning the cake to the oven rack. Her back creaked with the effort, but she’d never complained about her aging joints, even when they complained at her. “See, this is why I married you,” she said, and, oven closed, she went to Asami, leant against the opposite counter. “Always prepared.”

Her wife smiled, and the deep wrinkles around her eyes became more prominent. In sixty years, Korra had never let one of those smiles go unappreciated.

“I think it was the smooth talking that made me say yes,” Asami joked, green eyes sparkling with mirth. “That, and the muscles.”

“Hey,” Korra lifted one arm, patting her bicep. “I might be old, but I’ve still got it.”

That earned her a soft laugh and an even softer kiss. “Still in fighting shape, huh?”

Korra winked. “I’ve got to keep you around somehow.”

From the living area, a new song drifted into the kitchen. Korra recognized it instantly—their first dance. With the way Asami was looking at her, Korra knew it wasn’t a coincidence either. She’d seen the other woman fiddling with their vast collection of cassette tapes earlier in the day.

She held out her hand for Asami to take. “May I have this dance, my dear?”

“Of course, my love.”

Over the years, Korra could recall many such dances in their kitchen. It had started when they were young, even before they’d moved in together. Date nights on Air Temple Island or Asami’s apartment always lead to a dance, and ever since they’d started the tradition of cooking together, their dances had found their place in the kitchen. The songs had changed, and their steps had slowed, but when Asami held her, leading them through a soft sway, Korra was reminded of why she’d chosen to spend her life with Asami.

As the song ended, Korra asked, “When’s ‘Suko coming by? I know she’s busy at the factory.”

Asami checked her stopwatch before responding. She nodded at the oven, and Korra moved over to it, still listening. “Seven. She’s picking up Oki and the boys before she heads over.”

“And Jomei?” Korra pulled the cake from the oven again, testing it with the knife. “Is she bringing that airbender boy around?”

When Asami didn’t respond immediately, Korra knew that she’d see a knowing smirk if she looked—yep, there it was. “She is. Yasuko told me that it’s getting _pretty_ serious.”

Korra whistled lowly. “Miss ‘Never Settling Down’ is going to get a bit of a talking to,” and then, remembering, “The baby pictures?”

“On the coffee table.”

Korra grinned. They’d been collecting pictures of their grandchildren for years, but while their grandson had been _astonishingly_ photogenic, Jomei had drawn the short straw in that department. Korra had always found it confusing, as she took after her mother, who might not have shared any genes with Asami, but had grown up to be just as beautiful. Still, they had pictures of her as young as a few months old—always crying, snot everywhere, up until she hit puberty, or rather, puberty hit _her_ with a _battering ram_ , and then the images had turned downright awful. Korra loved it.

“Once I ice the cake, I think we’ll be good to go. Are they going to send a page when they’re on their way?”

“I can only imagine. I have never seen someone more attached to one of these things than Jomei,” She patted her own pager, clipped to her belt. “Well, this one’s attached to me, but…”

“But you’ve got important messages from our grandbabies incoming. I won’t fault you, dear. Today.”

Asami bowed her head. “Thank you, oh merciful one. I’ll keep your grace in mind when you’re helping me with the dishes tonight.”

“ _Me?_ When we’re going to have a house full of young, spry workers? No, ma’am, I think you’re mistaken! These gnarled hands don’t waterbend like they used to.”

“And yet when Hiro wants to watch you play video games, they work just fine. A likely story, ma’am, but I’m not buying it.”

Korra sighed, cooling off the cake with a gust of air and pulling the top off of the icing container. “You know, when we started getting involved, I thought, ‘Having a genius for a girlfriend can only be good!’ But hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess.”

“And it’s been a _miserable_ sixty years, hasn’t it?” Asami grumbled theatrically, sliding a hand around Korra’s waist as she iced the cake.

Asami dipped a finger in the frosting then, licking it clean before Korra could protest. Instead of complaining, however, she smiled up at her wife, a sudden affection washing over her at the sight of her. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Asami’s eyes crinkled around the edges, and she leant down for another quick kiss, but instead of pulling away, she pressed her forehead against Korra’s. “At least we’ve been miserable together.”

“Well, it hasn’t been _all_ bad,” Korra said, going back to her cake. “I hear you’re pretty good in bed.”

“Oh, you _hear?_ And where, pray tell, did you _hear_ this?”

She set the knife down, tapping the side of her head. “Up here. Lot of good reviews for Asami Sato. Good cook, nice smile, pretty funny… oh, and a _cunning_ linguist.”

“That’s it,” Asami threw her hands up, making a move to walk out of the kitchen. “Sixty years has been long enough.”

A laugh bubbled up in Korra’s chest, and she finished icing the cake before following her wife out into the living room. Asami stood by the massive speakers, pager in hand.

Korra had to take a moment to admire. The years had been more than kind to the taller woman. Although her long, silky hair was snow-white and her skin was full of wrinkles, she still carried herself the way she had when Korra had first laid eyes on her. Regal, commanding, but also kind and welcoming. Her angular features remained, bone structure more prominent under aging skin, but Korra just thought it made her look that much more beautiful. And those eyes—in the lifetime she’d known Asami, those eyes had never ceased to amaze her. This woman, who she’d given her life to, had been a wife and a mother and a grandmother, and then a _great_ grandmother beyond anything Korra could have ever dreamed of. Still, she wondered how she’d gotten so lucky.

“I think Jomei and Samten are on their way. I imagine they’re taking his bison,” Just then, the pager buzzed again. “…and it seems like Yasuko’s picked up the boys and is heading over too. ETA… fifteen minutes, she says.”

“Enough time for a lesson in linguistics, hm?”

As Korra wrapped her arms around her wife’s middle, she was rewarded with an eye roll and a smirk. “We both know you learn better with longer lessons. Something about retention.”

Pressing a kiss to Asami’s shoulder, Korra hummed in agreement. “I guess you’re right. I’ve always been a slow learner.”

This earned her a much louder laugh. “That you are _not_. Come on, help me set the table.”

There had always been something deeply comforting about domesticity for Korra. She’d spent her entire life on the move, and though she couldn’t exactly retire from being the Avatar, at some point she had to call it a day on the adventuring. At eighty-four, she’d decided to stick to meetings in Republic City and telecommuting wherever else she was needed. With how far Asami had pushed the limits of technology during her time at the head of Future Industries, and their daughter spearheading the effort into the digital age, Korra was more than happy to embrace the wide reach of communication technology the two had created. It had set a sense of pride so deep within her, that she’d once ripped the very first home computer Asami had made out of the floor and ran it onto the roof of Future Industries Tower to scream that her wife had _done the future_. Korra had almost been arrested, but Asami had been “doing the future" ever since.

The doorbell rang, and Korra finished setting the table as Asami rushed to open it. She loved how enthusiastic her wife was about their monthly family dinners. Korra felt the same way about them, but seeing Asami visibly excited never failed to put a smile on her face.

She heard happy shouts from the foyer—Yasuko and the boys. While they had always joked that their daughter had taken after Mako’s demeanor rather than either of her parents’, her husband, Oki, and Korra and Asami’s grandson, Rion, could have been more easily compared to Bolin. Rion and his husband, Tao, had promised to bring around the newest addition to the family—Hiroshi. Rion had consulted his grandmothers on the best way to have a child with his husband, but in the end, they hadn’t decided on adopting like his own mother had been. Korra was amazed with how far science had come, and continued to be amazed as they attended Hiro’s birth from a surrogate. Rion’s genes, not Tao’s—but even at almost two years old, Hiro looked a lot like both of his fathers.

“Gran Gran!”

Korra looked up from her last place setting. Her grandson stood there, arms outstretched, grin splitting his face. “There he is!” She exclaimed as he walked over to her. He pulled her into a tight embrace. “Oof! You’ve been using my old workouts, haven’t you? Look at these guns!” Rion guffawed, and Korra peered around him to his husband. “What a man you’ve got here, Tao! Takes after his Gran Gran.”

Tao laughed. “That he does. Good to see you, Korra,” She pulled the larger man in for a hug. Korra had always been fond of her grandson’s husband. He was a kind man, and already a wonderful father. “You and Asami are looking wonderful.”

Korra gestured to her face like she was a model. “Perks of being the Avatar. But Asami’s always been unnaturally gorgeous—not even modern science can explain it.”

“No need,” Came her wife’s voice from the hall. She rounded the corner, their great grandson in her arms. “I’m an enigma.”

“An enigma with a baby that needs some pinches!” she yelled, making claws with her hands, and tapping her fingers together with mock menace and a giddy grin.

“ _Gam!_ ” Hiro babbled, grabbing for Korra with one meaty hand while his other held tight to Asami’s blouse.

“I gotcha!” Korra crowed, kissing the baby on the cheek. He screamed with delight, grabbing her own shirt. “Oh, look at this!” On Hiro’s other cheek was a smear of Asami’s trademark red lipstick. “Already a ladies’ man, this one! Keep an eye out, you two, he’s gonna be a wild one!”

Rion scoffed. “He already is, but I’m worried about bending. His surrogate had firebenders as far back as anyone could trace, and we _just_ got new curtains.”

“Ooo, you hear that, Hiro?” Asami cooed, bouncing the baby in her arms. “Are you gonna ruin daddy’s nice new curtains?”

Korra kissed his cheek again. “Are you gonna ruin his couches too? He loves those couches, doesn’t he?”

“You two are the worst,” Rion laughed, leaning against his husband as his grandmothers doted on their great grandson.

Another deep voice came ringing out from the foyer: “No, please! We didn’t need help with the bags! Thank you for asking, son!”

“Oh, shit,” Rion grumbled, and was immediately whacked on the arm. “Sorry!” he said, both to his husband and his parents.

Yasuko and Oki rounded the corner into the dining area, arms full of bags. “Now it’s a party!” Oki yelled, dropping his bags in the kitchen and coming to embrace Korra, Asami, and Hiro. “You two never look any older, you know that?”

Oki was Yasuko’s foil in every sense of the word. While their daughter had skin like Korra’s and eyes and hair like Asami’s—even without the biological ties—Oki was very light for a Northerner, with icy blue eyes to match. Yasuko was lean but rather short, and Oki stood a good half a head taller than Asami—wide and bulky. He had a laugh like a bass drum and he hugged like a armadillo bear. Korra loved the guy—she had since their daughter brought him home almost thirty years prior.

“You _flatterer,_ you,” Korra teased, looking towards her daughter. “‘Suko, keep a handle on your man!”

Yasuko rolled her eyes, coming to hug her mothers as well. “Like I’ve _ever_ been able to do that, Ma.”

“How are you, sweetheart?” Asami inquired, passing their great grandson off to his fathers with another lingering kiss to his cheek. “How’s the new project coming?”

“You have _no_ idea, Mom. I’ll tell you all when Jo and her boy get here.”

“Speaking _of_ ,” Rion interjected, coming to stand by his parents and grandparents, hands on his hips. “Where did she find this guy? She doesn’t tell me _anything!_ ”

“You’re going to get a whole lot more _nothing_ when she gets here,” Oki scoffed. “A mystery, that one is.”

“Takes after her grandma,” Korra said, nudging Asami. “Madame and Miss Fix It. Hm, that could be a band name… Honey? You want to start a band with Jo?”

“Yes, Korra, I’m sure our twenty-four year old granddaughter wants to start a band with me,” Asami droned.

“I mean, you’re cooler than she is, Grandma,” Rion asserted. Korra nodded in agreement, patting her grandson on the arm. “You’d probably overshadow her, if I’m being honest.”

The doorbell rang again before Asami could comment on the attention.

“There’s the talk of the town now,” Yasuko said, making her way to the door. Before she'd made it to the hall, she whipped around, pointing at her son with the exact same glare Korra had seen on Asami during Yasuko's younger years. “Rion, I’m warning you—“

“Yeah, mom, no teasing. I promise,” he amended, holding his hands up in defense. Once Yasuko had left for the foyer, however, he turned to Korra with a conspiratorial grin. “I was crossing my toes.”

Korra tossed an arm around his shoulder. “That’s my boy,” she sang. “Your grandma is going to rip her a new one. Not telling us about this boy? Uh-uh. We broke out the baby pictures.”

Rion’s blue eyes lit up. “You _didn’t_.”

Asami looked over her shoulder, unimpressed. “You bet I did,” she said, “she’s been dating him _six months_ and we haven’t heard. She doesn’t get away with that in this house.”

“Spirits, I love you two.”

Yasuko rounded the corner first, followed by Jomei and her suddenly not-so-mystery boyfriend—Samten. Jo was a force to be reckoned with—an earthbender like her mother, and a mechanic by all rights as a Sato. Asami’s height and Yasuko’s complexion, but with a build like a probender—the slight, lanky airbender beside her looked completely out of place. Korra and Asami had first heard of him through Rion. A heated phone call and a demand for vengeance. Jomei had always been rather private, but _this_ couldn’t go unpunished. Or un- _teased_ , if Korra and Asami's track record was anything to go off of.

“And here he is, the mystery man,” Asami spread her arms out before her. “Hello, Samten, it’s a pleasure to _finally,_ ”—she raised an eyebrow at Jomei—“meet you.”

“Grandma,” Jomei warned, but her and Asami had always been thick as thieves, and Korra noticed the little grin she was trying to keep under control. “Sam’s been doing a lot of work with the Air Nation.”

“ _Six_ months, Jo!” Rion complained.

“Your brother’s right,” Korra said with a nod. “But! Attacking Jo is going to have to wait—let’s get situated! Everyone knows where they’re sitting—and Samten, since you’re new around here, you get the floor.”

Jomei groaned, but her boyfriend just looked confused. “We sit on the floors at the Northern Air Temple.”

“She’s kidding,” Jomei grumbled, taking his hand and leading him to the table.

The massive table had been a gift from Rion and Tao for Korra and Asami’s sixtieth anniversary. Tao was a woodworker, and a damn fine one at that, and he’d perfected a kind of precision lightning- and firebending that carved delicate patterns into his pieces. The table was cherrywood (Asami’s favorite) and had thin lines branching in all directions. He’d explained that he’d then used little wisps of fire to burn what looked like leaves against the branches of electricity. Tao was a creative genius, and Korra knew that Asami had always respected that in the man.

Looking at her family, Korra couldn’t help the immense swell of emotion that rose up in her chest. Asami always took the head of the table, and Korra always sat to her right, so they could watch as siblings and parents bickered, and Tao unpacked baby food for Hiro. After a beat, Korra felt her wife’s hand on hers.

She turned to look at Asami, only noticing that her eyes were watery when she saw Asami’s face swimming in her vision.

“This is our family,” Asami said gently, so only Korra could hear. “It’s the best one out there.”

Korra smiled, lifting her wife’s hand to her lips to kiss it. “You’re damn right it is.”

“ _Oh,_ ” came Rion’s voice, and Korra turned to see him watching them, clutching his hands to his chest, a dreamy expression of his face. “Spirits, to still be that in love after all these years,” He turned to his husband then, fire in his eyes. “We better be _just_ like them at their age, Tao!”

Tao shot Korra a bewildered expression, spoon halfway to Hiro’s waiting mouth, and Korra let out a sudden laugh. She was immediately followed by Asami, and soon the rest of the table had dissolved into laughter as well.

“With the way you two argue now, I see only good things in your future!” Oki bellowed, raising his glass of rice wine. The rest of the table followed. “A toast! To the Satos! The best damn family there is!”

“To the Satos!”

“ _Oooooh!_ ” Hiro giggled, banging his hands on his high chair.

“Hiro knows!” Oki laughed, reaching out to pinch his grandson's cheek.

The laughter died down into a manageable chatter, and the food was passed around. Asami had made the executive decision, opting for a smorgasbord of food from every corner of the earth. Five-flavor soup for Korra and Oki, komodo sausages for Tao, roast duck to satisfy the earthbenders, and even an old Air Nomad recipe for steam buns that Pema had passed down to Bolin many years before, for Samten. Korra’s cake was for dessert—a replica from many a Republic City bakery.

“So!” Rion clapped his hands together, angling a _look_ at his sister. “Who would like to start the barrage?”

“ _Rion,_ ” Yasuko warned, but Rion had always been the troublemaker of the family, and Korra had always been happy to encourage the behavior.

However, it was Asami that continued the effort, raising her hand. “I’ll do the honors,” She placed her hand back on the table and fixed Jomei with a look that had often made grown men cower. “You know I love you, Jo. You’re Grandma’s Little Welder.”

“Grandma, please don’t,” Jomei pleaded, but it was half-hearted. She knew she couldn’t stop Asami once she’d started.

“Mom, leave her be,” was Yasuko’s addition, but she was more focused on her roast duck than the conversation, knowing she’d never been able to win a fight with her mother.

Asami cleared her throat, and Korra felt a little smile creep across her face as her wife adjusted herself in her chair. “We just made a toast, didn’t we?” Confusion flashed across Yasuko and Jomei’s faces momentarily, but it almost instantly switched to realization, and the two leant back in their chairs, already defeated. Korra, however, leant forward, hanging on her wife’s every word. “And what—Oki, what did you make the toast for?”

“Satos!” Oki said happily through a mouthful of komodo sausage, oblivious. His wife smacked his arm. “What? That was the toast, right?”

“Oh no, you’re right,” Asami continued, punctuating every word carefully, “Thank you, Oki. Here’s my next question: who—who _gave_ all of you that name? The one we all just toasted so enthusiastically?”

Too riled up to let her progeny respond, Korra banged the table with her fist, rattling the plates. “ _You_ , baby! The queen of the castle!”

Rion whooped from the other side of the table, clapping, “Gran _Gran_! Tell it like it is!”

Jomei buried her head in her hands, groaning. Beside her, Yasuko watched her mothers with disdain, head tilted and jaw slack, but Korra had seen that look all through her childhood, and it hadn’t bothered her then either.

Asami folded her hands, raising her eyebrows at her granddaughter, who was peering at her through her fingers. “So with that settled—Samten,” She turned to the bewildered boy beside Jomei, “please tell us _everything_ about yourself because we didn’t know you existed until about a week ago.”

“Oh, um,” He looked around the table, blinking. “I, uh…”

“Don’t worry, Samten,” Tao said, wiping the pureed carrot and pear from his son’s mouth. “You get used to them.”

Samten nodded then, looking a little lost, but it took a few more prods to get him talking. And he turned out to be very good for conversation. Korra asked him about his work with the Air Nation, and he spoke with passion about his travels and his work at the new Northern Air Temple. He and Korra talked at length about airbending forms and astral projection, and he was happy to inform her that he’d been studying under Jinora’s tutelage.

“Oh, _spirits,_ ” Korra laughed, “did she tell you the one about the guy that didn’t eat for a hundred days?”

“Oh, yes!” Samten said, excited, “Guru—oh, you’re joking…”

Korra snorted. “Sorry, Sam. Jinora and I go way back—her father would tell anyone that story. Sometimes I think she’s a carbon copy of Tenzin.”

“Well, I’m fascinated by the culture. My parents aren’t Nomads, of course, but they’re Air Nation and… well, there’s been a bit of debate on whether or not we’re culturally Nomads, even though we bend air.”

“I’ve heard,” Korra hummed, nodding. “I had lunch with Rohan a couple weeks ago. Him, Ikki, Jinora, and Meelo are working towards a consensus on that. Thing is, look at you,” Korra gestured at his tattooed head. “you’ve got the tattoos, you’re a master. And you grew up in the Nation—I’d say the culture is as much yours as it is theirs. But—it’s not up to me.”

Samten nodded thoughtfully. “I think I’ll bring it up the next time I see Master Jinora. I’d like her input too.”

Korra found that she liked Samten. The guy might have been private like her granddaughter, but his softer side would be good for Jomei.

Tao, Samten, and Oki cleared the table once everyone had finished dessert, and Rion retreated to Korra and Asami’s bedroom with a dozing Hiro to set him down in the crib they’d built for him. That left the women to retire to the back porch, enjoying the pleasant breeze that accompanied the mild Republic City night.

Korra lit the decorative lanterns for a little light, sitting down next to Asami on their rocking wicker love seat and taking her hand. Jomei and Yasuko took the matching seat on the other side of the porch. The four of them gazed out on the city together.

“You haven’t told us about work—either of you,” Asami prompted, making herself comfortable against Korra. “I want to hear everything that’s been going on.”

Yasuko’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Mom, you wouldn’t _believe_ the kinds of things we’re getting ready to do,” she said, “our Digital Division has already employed ten _thousand_ people, and the World Wide Web has—I don’t even know how to _describe_ it! It’s incredible! _This_ is the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for—it’s the new Satomobile!”

“Everyone’s talking about it, even on the mechanical side. We’re launching a new line of Satobikes but all anyone can talk about is the fact that some guy pulled up a picture on the office’s new computer,” Jomei shrugged, pulling her pager out and waving it around. “I mean, all of this stuff is amazing, but I’m trying to get people excited about the new and improved fuel injection systems we’re working on.”

Korra felt Asami squeeze her hand. She didn’t have to turn to her wife to know that she was smiling, ear-to-ear, but when she did, Asami had tears in her eyes as Korra had. That proud, _proud_ smile, illuminated in the soft lamplight, made Korra’s heart light. Once upon a time, Korra remembered Asami worrying about the kind of mother she would be. Now, looking at their legacy, so invested in the kind of work Asami had begun, she knew the pride that her wife felt. She’d felt it when Yasuko had first moved a pebble, breaking a window in the process. She’d felt it when Jomei had learned of her skill in almost the exact same way, and when Rion had summoned his first wave. She felt it then, listening to her daughter and granddaughter talk about the future of, well, _Future Industries._

As the conversation had tapered off, a voice came through the porch door: “Grandma, Gran Gran! I found the photo album!”

Jomei’s face fell in an instant. “Son of a— _Rion!_ Put it down _right now!_ ” She scrambled inside the house, slamming sliding door open.

Yasuko just shook her head, but Korra and Asami broke into laughter.

“We’ve got to show Samten the one where she’s getting potty trained,” Asami chuckled, “you know, the one—“

“With the gummy pentapuses, yes, I know,” Yasuko drawled. “You two did this to me and Oki, and I distinctly remember _hating_ it. Remind me again why you’d like to see my daughter suffer through the same thing?”

“We’re her _grandmothers_ , sweetie, it’s our _job,_ ” Asami asserted. “And Rion is immune to embarrassment, so.”

“That’s a terrible argument.”

“Respect your mother, Yasuko!” Korra barked, pointing an accusatory finger at her daughter, who stared at her with a long-suffering look she’d adopted from Asami. “She dealt with _all_ of your boyfriend drama!”

“Because _someone_ always had an ‘Avatar Excuse’ when I had relationship issues!”

“You had a _lot_ of relationship issues,” Korra huffed, laughing when her daughter scowled at her. “You know I’m no good with relationship drama. Asami, tell her I’m no good with relationship drama.”

“She’s really not,” Asami confirmed. “ _But_ , every time you had any _other_ emotional turmoil, ‘Suko, your mother was there.”

Korra nodded, proud of that fact. “I just couldn’t deal with all the boys.”

Yasuko sighed, but her expression turned soft after a moment of watching her mothers. “I’ll be honest, you two have been a pain in my ass— _but,_ ” She held up a hand before Korra could protest. “I wouldn’t be half the woman I am today without you both.”

Joking aside, Korra smiled at her daughter. At fifty-five, Korra knew that Yasuko was on her second wind. Her kids had their own lives, and as the incumbent CEO of the biggest and most successful business in the world, she ran the corporation just as her mother had—perfectly, in Korra’s humble opinion. She was strong, and to a couple of old ladies, still young. Looking at the woman then, Korra found it hard to believe that she’d rocked her to sleep in her arms, or that Asami had taught her to ride a bike.

“We know you’re a grown woman now, ‘Suko, but you’ll always be our little girl,” Asami said, and Korra squeezed her wife’s hand as her voice broke. “And we’re both so, _so_ proud of you. And of Oki and Rion and Jomei, too.”

“Thank you, Mom. Thanks, Ma,” She stood, helping her mothers up before wrapping them both in a hug. “I love you both.”

“We love you too, ‘Suko,” Korra said, and Asami echoed her words. “How about we head in? I think we’ve missed most of the fun.”

Back inside—“What happened to my chair? And why is my grandson stuck in it?”

“Yeah, _Jomei_ , can you please explain to our grandmother why I’m stuck in her fancy metal chair?”

“I’m sorry Grandma, I’ll fix it,” Jomei deadpanned, lounging on the couch with her arm around a very lost-looking Samten. “When Rion’s ready to leave. I think he looks kind of nice there, for the time being.”

“Well,” Asami began, and Korra cracked her aging knuckles, ready to act at her wife’s word. “Fortunately for me, we have two other metalbenders in the house. Korra?”

With two swift motions, Korra bent the metal armrests from their constricting hold around Rion’s torso, freeing their grandson and returning the chair to its former glory.

“Thanks Gran Gran!” He hopped up, frowning at his sister before turning to Asami. “Grandma, I’d like to warn you _now_ that I will not be held accountable for any potential blocks of ice Jo is frozen in. Also, she hid the photo album in the kitchen somewhere. Dad and Tao are still in there, I’m sure they saw her sneaky ass do it.”

“ _Rion!_ ” Jo hissed.

Asami moved to kiss their grandson on the cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,” She angled a glare at Jomei before making her way into the kitchen. “You dug your grave long before you came here, but bending my decorative chair? Tsk, tsk—the nail in the coffin.”

“Grandm _aaa_ ,”

“It’s all right, Jomei, I won’t think of you any differently,” Samten reassured patting the hand over his shoulder, “and besides, I’m sure you were an adorable baby!”

“Oh, she was,” Korra said with a knowing smirk. “It’s the _quality_ of the pictures she’s worried about. Rightfully so.”

Once Tao and Oki had finished cleaning (an unprompted blessing Korra was infinitely grateful for) the eight were gathered around the wooden coffee table in the living area, Asami leading the assault on their granddaughter’s pride.

“So, Samten,” she began, flipping to the first page of the album. “I’m sure you know that Jo was born in 213, in the year of the Monkey, but what you _don’t_ know is when she came out—“

“Oh, _spirits,_  Mom, come on,” Yasuko grumbled, but Asami was undeterred.

“…she had grabbed the afterbirth. We don’t know how, but she did it,” Oki, Rion and Korra had already begun laughing at the memory, but Samten looked mortified, looking between Asami and his girlfriend, who was shaking her head, eyes shut tight in preparation. “And Rion, who was four at the time, was standing in just the right position—or the _wrong_ position, depending on how you look at it—and when she came out… the afterbirth came out a _lot_ faster, and _essentially,_ ” Asami allowed herself a little smile, and Korra saw her look at Tao, who hadn’t collapsed into laughter, and he just sighed, motioning for her to continue. “She threw the thing at Rion, and hit him so hard in the face that he fell into an EKG machine.”

Korra howled with laughter, leaning against her hiccuping son-in-law for support.

Somehow, Asami had managed to keep her composure at Samten’s face—terror, in its purest form—and continued, holding up the album for him to see. “So, we don’t have pictures of her being born, exactly, but we have this one,” She handed him the album, “of _Rion_ , on the floor, post-placenta.”

Samten took the book from Asami like it was a bomb, and Korra got to watch as his brown eyes widened at the image. Korra had seen it a million times—she was so proud of Asami for taking it. Rion had been a chubby little kid, and he’d never had good balance until he’d begun his waterbending training, so the picture, like many of him from birth to five, was of him on his butt. The thing that Korra had always loved about the kid was that he never really cried. The infamous picture was a testament, because he, like his newborn sister, was covered in afterbirth, but he, _unlike_ his sister, was _laughing_.

Asami leant back in the chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself as Samten took in the image. Yasuko, Tao, and Jomei shook their heads disapprovingly, and Korra, Oki, and Rion laughed hard enough to cry.

“Was—is—was he okay?” Samten tried, looking up from the album worriedly.

Jomei huffed a derisive laugh. “Look at him now—“ Rion snorted, burying his face in his husband’s shoulder. “—what do _you_ think?”

“He was fine,” Asami amended, waving Jomei off and taking the album from Samten. “Nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix.”

Korra wasn’t sure how long they went through the album, showing Samten the progression of his girlfriend’s life through horrible photos. Everything from Jomei’s first day of school (clad in highlighter orange and green, wailing and covered in snot) to her middle school dance (caught mid-blink, a brace-clad grimace, and a thick line of heavy-handed eyeliner) to her graduation from high school (the only— _only_ nice picture they had in the album.) Samten was laughing by the end, and Jomei had flipped on the Rabaroos game and was watching it with her mother to avoid further embarrassment.

The night wound to a close when the telltale cries from the bedroom told Rion and Tao that their son needed his own crib.

“Duty calls,” Rion grunted, slapping his legs and standing before his husband could. “I’ve got him, babe, can you get the diaper bag?”

“Oh!” Oki clapped his hands together. “Ma, before I forget, Yasuko and I brought back all of your Tupperware. It’s in the bags by the dinner table.”

“I wondered what all that was!” Korra laughed. “You two sure know how to horde our stuff.”

“And you two sure know how to give us things we don’t _need,_ ” Yasuko added, standing to retrieve her purse. “I have never seen anyone with as much Tupperware as you two.”

Korra stood then, lending a hand to her wife to help her as well. “Years of making too much food,” Asami sighed, “Not that anyone’s been complaining.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Oki patted his stomach with a grin.

The family reconvened in the foyer, and they said their goodbyes, full and warm and happy. Asami planted another few kisses on Hiro’s cheeks, and even though he was cranky and sleepy, he giggled after he’d been covered in lipstick again.

They gave the rest of their family hugs and kisses, and Korra sighed once the cars and bison had disappeared, sliding her arm around Asami’s middle and tugging her close.

“Come on,” Asami said, angling Korra so they could go back inside. “It’s chilly.”

She followed her wife back into their home, and they went through the routine they had for years, getting ready to turn in for the night. Korra was content. _Beyond_ content, really—she felt as if she was almost glowing. All without the Avatar State, too. That was what their family dinners did for her, and for Asami as well. They had each other most days, which was more than Korra could ever ask for, but when the house was full of energy and life and love—she was so, _so_ grateful for the family she was so lucky to have. The family her and Asami had made for themselves.

When Korra had finished in the bathroom, Asami was already reading a book in bed, reading glasses tilted down the bridge of her nose.

“This is what old people do,” Korra said, gesturing to her wife, who looked up, one eyebrow raised.

“We _are_ old people,” She was right, but Korra wasn’t about to admit it. With a smile, Asami set her glasses and her book on the nightstand, patting Korra's side of the bed. “Come to bed, old lady,” And Korra obliged, snuggling under the covers with her wife. She was content to fall asleep, comfortable against Asami’s chest, but it seemed her wife had other ideas. “So… are you still interested in that linguistics lesson?”

Korra laughed then, leaning up to kiss the love of her life. And she would have enjoyed it thoroughly—

—if they hadn’t fallen asleep halfway through.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you've got any questions about the fam, hit me up 
> 
> Keep an eye out for more garbage as we get closer to the comics, there's gonna be some new stuff for sure.
> 
> I'm [here](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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